Kidung Jemaat

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Hymns

Psalms 50:1-11

• [Psa 50:1] Lord Our God Is Clothed With Might, The

  The Lord our God is clothed with might, The winds obey His will; He speaks, and in His heavenly height, He speaks, and in His heavenly height, The rolling sun stands still. Rebel, ye waves, and o’er the land With threatening aspect roar; The Lord uplifts His awful hand, The Lord uplifts His awful hand, And chains you to the shore. Ye winds of night, your force combine; Without His high behest, Ye shall not, in the mountain pine, Ye shall not, in the mountain pine, Disturb the sparrow’s rest. His voice sublime is heard afar; In distant peals it dies; He yokes the whirlwind to His car, He yokes the whirlwind to His car, And sweeps the howling skies. Ye nations, bend, in reverence bend; Ye monarchs, wait His nod; And bid the choral song ascend And bid the choral song ascend To celebrate our God.

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  source: Cyberhymnal

• [Psa 50:1] Mighty God, Je­ho­vah, Speaks, The

  The mighty God, Jehovah, speaks And calls the earth from sea to sea; From beauteous Zion God shines forth, He comes and will not silent be; Devouring flame before Him goes, And dark the tempest round Him grows. He calls aloud to Heaven and earth That He may justly judge His own: My chosen saints together bring Who sacrifice to Me alone; The heav’ns His righteousness declare, For God Himself as Judge is there. Hear, O My people, I will speak, Against thee I will testify; Give ear to Me, O Israel, For God, thy covenant God, am I; I do not spurn thy sacrifice, Thy offerings are before My eyes. I will receive from out thy fold No offering for My holy shrine; The cattle on a thousand hills And all the forest beasts are Mine; Each mountain bird to Me is known, Whatever roams the field I own. Behold, if I should hungry grow, I would not tell My need to thee, For all the world itself is Mine, And all its wealth belongs to Me; Why should I aught of thee receive, My thirst or hunger to relieve? Bring thou to God the gifts of thanks, And pay thy vows to God Most High; Call ye upon My holy Name In days when sore distress is nigh; Deliverance I will send to thee, And praises thou shalt give to Me.

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  source: Cyberhymnal

• [Psa 50:1] Mighty God, The Lord, The

  The mighty God, the Lord, hath spoken unto all; From rising to the setting sun, He unto earth doth call. From Zion, His own hill, where perfect beauty dwells, Jehovah hath His glory shown, in brightness that excels. Our God shall surely come, and silence shall not keep; Before Him fire shall waste, and storms tempestuous round Him sweep. He to the heav’ns above shall then send forth His call, And likewise to the earth that He may judge His people all. “Together let My saints unto Me gathered be, Those that by sacrifice have made a covenant with Me.” Then shall the heav’ns declare His righteousness abroad; Because the Lord Himself is Judge, yea, none is judge, but God.

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  source: Cyberhymnal

• [Psa 50:4] Lord, The Sov­er­eign, Sends His Sum­mons Forth, The

  The Lord, the Sovereign, sends His summons forth, Calls the south nations and awakes the north; From east to west the sounding orders spread, Through distant worlds and regions of the dead: No more shall atheists mock His long delay; His vengeance sleeps no more: behold the day! Behold, the Judge descends, His guards are nigh; Tempest and fire attend Him down the sky: Heav’n, earth, and hell, draw near; let all things come To hear His justice, and the sinner’s doom: “But gather first My saints,” the Judge commands, “Bring them, ye angels, from their distant lands. “Behold, My cov’nant stands for ever good, Sealed by th’ eternal Sacrifice in blood, And signed with all their names; the Greek, the Jew, That paid the ancient worship or the new, There’s no distinction here; come, spread their thrones, And near Me seat My fav’rites and My sons. “I, their Almighty Savior and their God, I am their Judge: ye heav’ns, proclaim abroad My just eternal sentence, and declare Those awful truths that sinners dread to hear: Sinners in Zion, tremble and retire; I doom the painted hypocrite to fire. “Not for the want of goats or bullocks slain Do I condemn thee; bulls and goats are vain Without the flames of love; in vain the store Of brutal off’rings that were Mine before; Mine are the tamer beasts and savage breed, Flocks, herds, and fields and forests where they feed. “If I were hungry, would I ask thee food? When did I thirst, or drink thy bullocks’ blood? Can I be flattered with thy cringing bows, Thy solemn chatt’rings and fantastic vows? Are My eyes charmed thy vestments to behold, Glaring in gems, and gay in woven gold? “Unthinking wretch! how couldst thou hope to please A God, a Spirit, with such toys as these, While, with My grace and statutes on thy tongue, Thou lov’st deceit, and dost thy brother wrong? In vain to pious forms thy zeal pretends, Thieves and adulterers are thy chosen friends. “Silent I waited with long-suff’ring love, But didst thou hope that I should ne’er reprove? And cherish such an impious thought within, That God, the Righteous, would indulge thy sin? Behold My terrors now: My thunders roll, And thy own crimes affright thy guilty soul.” Sinners, awake betimes; ye fools, be wise; Awake before this dreadful morning rise; Change your vain thoughts, your crooked works amend, Fly to the Savior, make the Judge your friend Lest, like a lion, His last vengeance tear Your trembling souls, and no deliv’rer near.

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  source: Cyberhymnal

• [Psa 50:5] When Saints Gather Round Thee

  When saints gather round Thee, dear Savior, above, And hasten to crown Thee with jewels of love, Amid those bright mansions of glory so fair— Oh, grant, dearest Savior, that I may be there. When those who have labored and struggled to save Their loved ones from sorrow beyond the dark grave, Are bringing the treasures they gathered with care— Oh, grant, dearest Savior, that I may be there. When life’s dreary billows are spent on the shore Beyond the dark river, and time is no more, When bright palms of glory the victors shall bear— Oh, grant, dearest Savior, that I may be there. And when in bright garments Thy children shall stand, A crown on each forehead, a harp in each hand, And sing of the joys Thou hast gone to prepare— Oh, grant, dearest Savior, that I may be there.

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  source: Cyberhymnal